


Must Love Dogs

by lushatrocity



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dogs, F/M, New Beginnings, unexpected run-ins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lushatrocity/pseuds/lushatrocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say bad luck always comes in threes -- but Bellamy Blake was fairly certain the world hadn't considered Clarke Griffin when that saying was created.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Must Love Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this little drabble! :)

Bad luck always comes in threes, as the saying goes -- but Bellamy Blake must have seriously pissed off the gods because he had exceeded that limit by 9 am. 

 

It all started when an early morning thunder storm caused a brief power outage, which in turn lead to him oversleeping (he's an old fashioned guy that likes to use an actual clock for an alarm, okay?). Once he had realized his mistake, it lead him to dance about his tiny apartment in a blind panic, which meant that he inevitably stubbed his toe on the corner of the god-awful dresser Octavia had bought him from IKEA.

 

_"It has no soul," Bellamy had whined while they were standing in the aisle, staring at the various dressers that all looked exactly the same but somehow all had different names and prices. "Why can't I get something that was actually made by a person?"_

_"Because you're a teacher and make like 5 dollars an hour?" Octavia supplied with a lift of a brow._

_"Fair enough."_

"You are still a piece of shit," he told the dresser before attempting to pull on his socks with only one working leg. He failed, of course, slipping on the edge of his rug and crashing onto his back. Staring at the ceiling, he seriously considered throwing up the white flag and crawling back into bed, but the reminder of the bills piled on the coffee table forced him into action once more.

 

It wasn't until he unpacked his dry cleaning that he discovered the next disaster.

 

"Come on!" He groaned, staring in horror at the shirt sleeve that barely made it past his elbow. A glance at the clock told him he didn't have anymore time to waste, so he scrambled to roll up the cuff so it would look like the shirt was supposed to only reach his elbow and gave a silent prayer of thanks when it became clear that while the owner of this shirt had T-Rex arms, they were at least wide enough that Bellamy was able to button the shirt without splitting any seams. Grabbing his keys, he rushed out the door.

 

Only to rush back five seconds later and grab his wallet off the coffee table.

 

\------------

 

 

His morning classes went smoothly enough, all things considered, and so Bellamy had convinced himself that the worst was behind him as he stepped out of his building for a late lunch. He indulged himself with a full loaded hot dog from a cart outside of the entrance to a nearby park when the buzz of his phone caught his attention. Juggling his items, he managed to retrieve the tiny device from his pocket and tuck it against his ear so that he could talk with Octavia and eat at the same time.

 

Bellamy considered himself to be an excellent multi-tasker and therefore thought he pulled it off without a hitch -- but in reality, Octavia was just well-versed in the language of grunting.

 

"We're still on for dinner, right?"

 

"Of course," he replied around another bite.

 

"....Okay, good. That's great. I'm excited."

 

Octavia's voice took on a nervous tilt and he would have pressed her further about the strange turn in their conversation, if it weren't for the sudden sound of frantic shouting and loud barking that sounded from the path behind him. Turning, time slowed enough for him to register the large furry beast that was charging towards him, leash flapping wildly in the wind, and the hint of a blonde woman a few paces behind before the impact occurred -- but it did not give him the foresight to, oh you, maybe drop his phone or the godforsaken hot dog.

 

But luckily for him, the dog took care of the rest of his food while he stared up at the sky, tiny invisible birds dancing in front of his eyes.

 

"Oh -- oh my god, I am so sorry. He's not usually like this." A woman's voice wormed its way into his brain and a dark shape appeared in his vision. "Are you okay? Can you hear me? Fuck, this can't be happening," the voice continued, an edge of desperation creeping into her otherwise lovely tone. 

 

The strange thought jarred him back into the present and he blinked furiously before shaking his head to clear the last of the fuzziness away. "What?"

 

"Wait -- you might have a concussion," the voice warned when he began sitting up, but she gave up when it became clear that he was a man on a mission, shifting instead to grab his arm and assist him to his feet.

 

"I am so, _so_  sorry," she said again, as he inspected the ketchup and mustard masterpiece that had been painted on his shirt. "---Bellamy?"

 

The surprised squeak caused him to jerk his head up --too quickly if the sudden ache was any indication -- and he narrowed his eyes as he took in a familiar pair of blue eyes. "Princess," he greeted, "I should have known they'd send you to finish me off."

 

Clarke's eyes narrowed, mouth settling into a pinched expression that usually accompanied their encounters. "I said I was sorry, it's not like I planned this!"

 

"Sure, sure," he grunted, waving her off before stretching down to retrieve his phone. It had lived up to its reputation of being unbreakable he was pleased to discover as he inspected the screen for scratches. His crouched position placed him in at the optimum height for an additional inspection by her fury companion, and the large shepherd wasted little time easing closer to sniff every inch of him. "Easy, fella," Bellamy muttered, reaching over to give the dog a quick pat.

 

A loud sneeze brought his attention back to Clarke. "I really am sorry, Bell," she repeated gently, voice unexpectedly hoarse.

 

Noticing the redness surrounding her eyes and nose, Bellamy was quick to put two and two together. "You got a frog in there or what?" 

 

Her brow furrowed at his joke before another round of sneezing had her searching her pockets for a kleenex. "No, just allergies," she announced before turning to blow her nose discreetly.

 

"Allergies? I've never known you to be sick a day in your life ..." He trailed off as he followed her gaze to the dog that was sitting beside him, tail wagging happily as he watched the humans interact. "You bought a fucking dog even though you're allergic? Are you serious?"

 

"I didn't know I was allergic at the time," Clarke snapped, reaching down to grab the leash from the ground.

 

Bellamy shook his head with a wry chuckle, reaching out to scratch at the dog's ears. "He's pretty big, Princess -- don't your people usually go for the little ones so you can waltz around with them in your purse?"

 

Clarke's eyes flashed in response to the jab as she shifted to kneel down as well. "If you saw my bank account right now you would know they're not my people anymore," she huffed, focusing her attention on the leash that was loosely wrapped about her fingers.

 

"What?" 

 

Clarke's mouth twisted with a smile that was far from cheerful. "Don't you know? Griffins that drop out of medical school don't get to be Griffins anymore."

 

Raising a hand, Bellamy scratched at the back of his head while he attempted to process her words. "Why the fuck would you drop out?"

 

"Because I just couldn't do it anymore," she admitted quietly, gaze flicking back towards his face. "Life is too precious to be wasted, you know?"

 

"Right," Bellamy echoed, the vague memory of Octavia telling him about her father passing flashed through his mind and a wave of sympathy rushed through him. "That also explain this guy?" Indicating the dog with a jerk of his chin.

 

"He's-- _was_ Dad's dog," she answered while rising to her feet. "I couldn't just let  _her_ throw him out too." The determined lift of her chin and wide stance caused her to look like a cross between a battle-hardened general and a five year-old preparing to throw a tantrum.

 

It was endearing. And terrifying.

 

Pushing to his feet, Bellamy cleared his throat roughly in order to chase away the odd feeling that had settled in his gut. "Okay then, give me the leash."

 

"What?" She asked, brow arching slightly.

 

"Give me the leash," he repeated slowly, pointing at the leash to help clarify his point.

 

"Why?" She drew the leash closer to herself defensively.

 

"For christ's sake, I'm not going to steal your dog, Princess."

 

"Fine," she sighed, handing over the leash with a frown.

 

"Thank you," he replied, sarcasm coating his words thickly. Her eyes narrowed in response, but he held up a hand to ward off the incoming attack. "Now, you take this," he continued, drawing out his wallet to pass her a twenty, "and head down to the pharmacy on the corner to get some medicine."

 

She stared at the money suspiciously. "What are you going to do while I'm gone?"

 

"I'm going to turn your dog into a fur coat," he deadpanned before grinning wildly when he heard her outraged gasp. "We're in a park, princess, what the fuck do normal people do?" 

 

Turning her head, she followed the line of his gaze until she noticed the entrance to the dog park area nearby. "Oh. Got it."

 

"So, run along to the store while I take Fido--"

 

"Oydi."

 

"What?"

 

"We call him Oydi." 

 

"What the fuck kind of of name is Oydi?" 

 

Rolling her eyes, Clarke put her hands on her hips. "It's a nickname, obviously." He scoffed, but the lift of his brow encouraged her to continue. "We named him Odysseus, after Dad's favorite story."

 

"Oh yeah?" 

 

"Yeah," she murmured, expression softening as she met his gaze. "He, uh, would have liked you, Professor." Nudging him lightly as a shy smile settled onto the curve of her mouth.

 

"Yeah," he agreed, voice slightly rough. "I'm sure I would've liked him too."

 

They lingered, a sudden tension gathering in the small space between them and neither one appeared sure of how to proceed -- until the sound of Oydi's loud bark startled them both. 

 

Jumping apart, Clarke hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "I should, uh, get to the store."

 

"Yeah, okay. We'll meet you in there." 

 

Bellamy kept his body angled towards her until Oydi's insistent straining against the leash forced him to turn away, but that didn't stop him from sneaking a few additional glances at the blonde until she ducked out of sight.

 

\-----------

By the time Clarke had returned, plastic bag dangling from her wrist and two styrofoam cups of coffee in her hand, Bellamy had somehow recruited a few kids to race around with Oydi, leaving him free to lounge on a nearby bench like a king. 

 

"What are they doing?"

 

"Whatever the hell they want," Bellamy remarked with a lazy grin before shifting forward to accept the coffee. "What's this?"

 

"An apology," she answered while settling down the bench beside him.

 

Taking a careful sip, Bellamy grunted in surprise when he realized it was exactly the way he liked it. "How'd you know I take it black?"

 

She shrugged idly, a hint of color darkening her cheeks. "Lucky guess?" 

 

"Mhm." Smugly.

 

"Hush," she scolded, bumping her shoulder against his before settling further against the back of the bench. "Tell me about your day?"

 

They settled into an easy conversation, Bellamy entertaining her with stories that became more and more exaggerated as he went, if only because he found that he was rather fond of the way she laughed. Clarke gave as good as she got, however, and the hours flew by unnoticed. 

 

It wasn't until streaks of pale pink coated the sky that Bellamy realized how late it had gotten and he jerked away from her with a start. "Shit, I have to go. I, uh, have to meet Octavia for dinner. I'll uh, see you around?"

 

He waited for Clarke's nod before starting away, patting his pockets to make sure he still had his phone and keys. _  
_  


 

"Bell!"

 

Freezing at the sound of her voice, he turned back to her curiously. "Yeah?"

 

Lips pressed together tightly, Clarke seemed to go under some kind of internal struggle before she finally called out. "You were a nice guy today. A  _really_ nice guy. Make sure you bring that guy to dinner tonight, okay?"

 

His brow furrowed faintly at the advice but he felt himself nod before turning to dash off down the path.

 

\------

 

The reason for Clarke's warning became abundantly clear when he arrived at the restaurant only to find a tattooed stranger sitting next to Octavia.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
